


Worst-Case Scenario

by brites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emetophilia, Sickfic, Vomiting, this is literally just sick boys and puking im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7047649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brites/pseuds/brites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the same day, in the middle of the same practice, the majority of the Karasuno Volleyball Team came down with a stomach bug. It shouldn't have been possible. It happened anyway.</p><p>Sawamura Daichi is a very tired man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worst-Case Scenario

**Author's Note:**

> This was from a request on Tumblr and it... really just... spiraled. Can't say I quite regret it, but I do feel the need to apologize to... someone. Many people, maybe.
> 
> I'm sorry Daichi.

Sawamura Daichi was of the firm belief that there is no such thing as a worst-case scenario.

Worse-case scenarios -- yeah, those existed. As bad as a situation was, it could always get even worse, which was exactly the reason for his aforementioned belief.

Some events, though, were just so mind-bogglingly bad -- they start off bad, but then descend into hell with a rapidity that leaves your head spinning -- that they proved capable of shaking even Daichi's firmest beliefs to the foundations. Such was the case with that Friday's practice.

It started with Ennoshita. Well, maybe that isn't quite accurate; for Daichi, at least, the entire disaster started with Suga and lunch.

They were halfway through their bentos when Suga's stomach gave off a surprisingly loud gurgle. Glancing up, Daichi raised an eyebrow at the other boy, but Suga only shrugged.

"I guess I'm just hungry," he remarked, and if Daichi thought anything else was wrong he didn't press it.

He really should have, though. By the time practice rolled around, Suga's stomach had shifted from emitting the occasional gurgle to a cacophony of distressed noises. In the silence of their walk to the gym it was all too obvious; normally Daichi wouldn't press something if Suga hadn't complained, but he just couldn't in good conscience not say anything. He stopped him just outside the doors to the club room.

"Suga, are you feeling okay? Really."

There was a slight crease to Suga's brow, and he looked a bit paler than usual, maybe -- but he still managed to put a familiar smile on his face. Daichi wished he could feel at ease just from that one gesture, but he had known Suga for too long to be fooled by a carefree demeanor.

"I'm fine," Suga replied, voice light yet firm. "If I wasn't feeling well, I wouldn't be going to practice."

Suga was Daichi's responsible vice-captain. He trusted Suga. And so, that's where he left it.

To Daichi's credit as a captain, he realized something was wrong with his team pretty early on that practice. The Oddball Duo wasn't arguing as loudly as they usually would, there were no snarky comments from Tsukishima, and even Nishinoya's indomitable energy seemed somehow subdued. It was fine, Daichi told himself. It was no big deal. Just like Suga's stomach, it might seem a bit weird, but everything was alright.

In the middle of practicing serves side-by-side, Suga's stomach suddenly gurgled again. The sound was loud, piercing, and it left the setter with both arms wrapped around his stomach. He suddenly looked very pale.

"Umm, Daichi," he said quietly, "I think I'm going to sit down..."

Watching Suga walk slowly towards the bench, Daichi wondered why he suddenly had the feeling that something very bad was about to happen.

And then, from just a few feet away, Ennoshita suddenly doubled over with his hands clapped to his mouth.

Worried about Suga as he was, Ennoshita's situation was obviously more pressing. Abandoning his friend for the moment, Daichi hurried to Ennoshita's side just in time to hear the distressed boy let out a harsh gag. Suddenly there was something brown dripping from between the second year's fingers, and Daichi felt his own stomach flip in both sympathy and revulsion. That had _literally just happened_ , he realized faintly. Ennoshita had literally just thrown up in his own hands, and he was still going.

Around the heaving boy, practice had quickly come to a halt; an audience was gathering, wide-eyed and absolutely in awe of what they were seeing.

Daichi wasn't in awe. Daichi wasn't even surprised. It was at that moment that really things clicked in to place for the Karasuno captain, and suddenly the feeling of dread he had been carrying abound with him all afternoon made a lot more sense.

Daichi squared his shoulders and prepared himself for an oncoming storm.

...

Seeing his senpai suddenly vomit up his entire lunch in the middle of practice was absolutely terrifying.

It might have been funny. Maybe, if he were seeing it on television instead of real life, and if he were a different person who found things like that funny... someone like Hinata, for example. But for Kageyama seeing such a thing right in front of him was downright terrifying, least of all because he _practiced on that court._

The _really_ scary thing was that his own stomach wasn't feeling so great either -- and seeing Ennoshita-senpai suddenly double over puking was giving him very horrifying flash-forwards of his _own_ potential future.

Next to him, Hinata was staring gape-mouthed. Tsukishima seemed downright repulsed, Yamaguchi looked nauseous, Yachi may have been close to tears, and he was pretty sure Tanaka-senpai had already departed from this earthly plane and left nothing more than a shell-shocked husk in his wake.

It was their captain who finally had the presence of mind to take Ennoshita by the arm, pulling him away from the puddle of his own sick. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, voice gentle, and only then did it dawn on Kageyama that Daichi was performing the job that usually would have fallen to their vice-captain.

His eyes sought out the third year until he found him, sitting soundlessly on the bench, face ashen as he stared after Ennoshita and Sawamura. Sugawara looked stunned. He looked _sick_.

Kageyama honestly wasn't able to tell whether the awful feeling in his gut was from illness, or dread. His stomach chose that moment to do an awful twist; he had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stifle a burp. That's when he decided it was probably both.

...

"You don't look good, Tsukki," Yamaguchi muttered to him, and Tsukishima immediately shot him a sharp glare.

"I'm fine," he hissed back harshly, and turned away from his friend.

Tsukishima wasn't fine. His stomach gave another small jump, and he pinched his mouth shut tightly to prevent a sick belch from escaping. The last thing he needed - the absolute last thing he was going to do - was get sick. It simply wasn't an option.

The problem with someone getting sick at practice was that most of the Karasuno volleyball team had a single mode of transportation home -- they either walked or rode their bikes. None of the seniors knew how to drive. The only people who could drive were Takeda-sensei and Coach Ukai, and while Takeda-sensei had been absent for the past few days (stomach bug, someone had said, _oh god_ ), Ukai had made it very clear that _no one_ was puking in his truck.

So Ennoshita-senpai had been situated quite comfortably in the club room, a blanket laid out and bucket set aside for his liberal use. His parents had been called -- but they wouldn't be able to leave work for an hour still. All Ennoshita could do was wait.

What would Tsukishima do? His mother could come pick him up, he supposed, and her car was big enough to take Yamaguchi home as well --

 _No._ It wasn't going to come to that, _dammit_ , because no matter what happened he was not going to be--

Another wave of nausea rolled over him suddenly, and Tsukishima had to bite back a whimper. That had been the worst one yet -- and he'd been fighting off growing pulses of nausea for well over an hour now. He couldn't _remember_ the last time he had felt this sick. The volleyball in his hands slipped from his grasp, bouncing along the ground as he wordlessly moved to sit on the other side of the bench from Sugawara. He had to bite back another burp as he did so; he could see Yamaguchi watching him from the other side of the net with concern, but he just didn't care.

Maybe he'd call his mother after all. He really wanted to go home.

...

An effort had been made to restart practice after Ennoshita had been situated and his mess had been cleaned up, but it was obvious that no one's heart was really in it. Half the team didn't seem capable of playing anyways; Sugawara was still on the bench, Kageyama had gone very quiet and turned a funny shade of green, and it wasn't long before Tsukishima had joined Suga on the bench, bracing himself on his knees and staring fixedly at the ground with an unreadable expression on his face. Coach Ukai was very close to just sending everyone home for the day.

Daichi couldn't believe this was happening.

"Everyone is sick," he muttered incredulously to Kiyoko. "How... how can this even happen?"

"Not everyone," Kiyoko corrected uneasily. "Some people..."

From across the court, they heard the sound of a gurgling burp. Daichi looked up sharply, eyes widening when he spotted Yamaguchi with a hand clamped over his mouth, eyes wide. The captain muttered a curse, already rising to his feet and opening his mouth to shout across the gym, but there was no need -- Yamaguchi was already running, hastily escaping out the gym doors before the sounds of gagging could be heard from outside.

Kiyoko turned to look back up at him with wide eyes; Daichi groaned, sinking back down on the bench and cradling his head in his hands. "I've had nightmares like this."

At the very least his own stomach still felt steady as ever. Small victories, he supposed.

...

Yamaguchi was going to die.

He hated throwing up; he hated being sick. As he gagged now into a bush, coughing up harsh mouthfuls of vomit that left his throat burning and his stomach feeling like it was being stabbed, he was sure that he'd finally reached his lowest point.

It wasn't just him, either. From the looks of it, almost everyone was feeling some degree of unwell. Yamaguchi wasn't sure if this made his own situation more or less shameful, but he really didn't want to think about it. Throwing up into a bush outside your school gym, within hearing distance of your entire volleyball team -- that had to be some kind of rock bottom, at least.

He didn't realize he wasn't alone anymore until he felt someone suddenly grip his shoulders. The unexpected support wound up keeping him from toppling right over into the bush. Yamaguchi gagged again, groaned, and belched weakly as he felt someone smooth his bangs back from his face.

"Your hair is too damn long," Tsukishima muttered, and Yamaguchi barely had time to register the shock of warmth in his chest at the knowledge that _Tsukki had come after him_ before he was suddenly burping up another mouthful of sickness. He could feel Tsukishima carefully binding his hair back with a tie, keeping it out of his face and safe from harm. Tsukki liked to pretend he was so cold, but when it came down to it he really was a great friend. Yamaguchi would have to remind him so again, after all this -- Tsukishima didn't like it when people pointed out his niceness, but Yamaguchi knew it was necessary anyway.

He was too weak for that now, though; as he pulled back, panting, he didn't even have the strength to keep his legs steady before he was sinking to the ground, taking Tsukishima slowly down with him. He settled on the hard concrete, curling up with his head bowed and arms wrapped around his aching stomach. Tsukishima mirrored him, drawing his knees up to his chest.

They stayed in that position for a while, neither of them speaking. Yamaguchi didn't feel any better, but the fact that his vomiting had abated for the moment was definitely a good thing, he decided. After a few minutes Tsukishima's forehead came to rest against his drawn knees. It still came as a surprise to them both when the blond suddenly burped, wet and thick.

"Tsukki," Yamaguchi breathed raspily, watching his friend press a fist to his mouth. "You're sick too?"

"I am no-" Tsukishima began, but was unable to help belching again. Cheeks coloring, he hid his face once more, pressing a single hand to his stomach, and Yamaguchi watched the way his shoulders trembled as he fought off what could only be a wave of nausea.

"Oh man," Yamaguchi muttered, inwardly despairing -- there was no way either of them could walk home like this, he knew. "Can you... call your mom?"

"Phone's in my bag," Tsukishima replied, hiccuping. "She can... pick me up, but I'd have to walk to get it..."

Tsukishima really didn't look up for that right now, and as Yamaguchi's stomach lurched he realized that he _definitely_ wasn't. Resigning himself to his fate, he leaned over the bush once more and tried to hold his nausea back.

...

"Why are you _tweeting_ this?" Daichi groaned, tossing his head back as if the ceiling held the answers to all of life's woes. "This is a _bad_ thing, Nishinoya!"

Their libero had to realize this -- he had just spent the last five minutes puking into a toilet bowl, after all. But in typical Noya fashion, he was... weird. Being ill didn't seem to affect him like it would a normal person. Sick as he was, he recovered from puking just as quickly as he was sent gagging in the first place, and it only took him a few minutes to build his energy back up.

"Daichi-san, the entire team is sick! That's gotta be some sort of world record or something!"

"The entire team isn't sick," Asahi pointed out helpfully from the next stall over, before giving a wet hiccup. "Just... most of us..."

Daichi winced as the sounds of gagging resumed from their team's ace. It must have triggered something in Nishinoya too, because his face suddenly went a funny shade of green, and he was sent puking again as well. Daichi heaved a sigh through his nose, and wondered if he might be able to confiscate Nishinoya's phone while he was distracted.

No -- the libero had the device gripped solidly in his hands, even while gagging. Daichi fought the urge to curse; instead he walked out of the stall, and let the bathroom door slam behind him.

...

"Are you feeling okay, Tanaka-senpai?" Yachi enquired in her mousey, half-terrified way. Frankly Tanaka was surprised she was still standing in all this chaos -- even if she wasn't sick herself, the sheer trauma factor of the situation should have left her immobile from fear half an hour ago.

"Me? Ahh, don't worry about me Yacchan, I feel fine!" he exclaimed, and he meant it. "Us Tanakas are immune to everything but the common cold!"

"Why the common cold?" Hinata asked, tilting his head owlishly. For all his usual stomach problems, he'd somehow managed to avoid showing any signs of sickness yet, and no one was above calling this a miracle.

Tanaka's face darkened, expression turning grim in the blink of an eye. "It's our worst enemy..."

Okay, _maybe_ he was putting in an active effort to lighten the situation. A bit of lightheartedness was needed in a time like this -- right now it was easier to count off the people who hadn't been sick, rather than the people who were.

Coach Ukai was busy making phone calls, trying to get in contact with rides for everyone who couldn't make it home on their own. In one corner of the gym, the "survivors" were clustered; Tanaka, surrounded by Yachi and Hinata (both surprisingly unaffected by the virus decimating the team's ranks). Kageyama was there too, but he seemed far more spaced out than anyone else -- Tanaka knew the look of someone in the verge of losing their lunch, and he'd been steadily inching away from Kageyama for the past five minutes. Sugawara was also sitting with them, looking supremely nauseous, but so far he had managed to hold out. Narita and Kinoshita had been with them; eventually Kinoshita's stomach ache had gotten so bad that he'd gone to sit outside. Narita was fine, but unfortunately he turned out to be a sympathy puker -- he'd gone with his friend, and neither had been seen since. They'd probably relocated to the club room or the bathroom, like all the rest of the sufferers.

Just then, Kiyoko came jogging back up to the group. She'd pulled her dark hair back, stray strands escaping to fly haphazard around her face; she wore a stricken expression. For a moment Tanaka was hit with the terrible fear that maybe Kiyoko had gotten sick too, before she turned to Yachi and said in a tired voice, "Hitoka-chan, I need your help in the club room. Nishinoya-kun has escaped."

"Escaped!" Hinata let out a squawk, jumping to his feet out of sheer excitement. "How did he escape? He's sick!"

Tanaka shrugged. "Yeah, but he's also Noya."

"The captain is looking for him, but he probably needs help, and the sick people aren't getting any better..." Kiyoko bit down on her lower lip anxiously, and just like that Tanaka had no doubt as to what he needed to do.

"Never fear, Kiyoko-san!" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. (He briefly considered attempting a regal bow, but the last time he'd tried that he'd wound up flopping over, so he elected to spare himself the embarrassment again.) "I'll find Noya for you!"

"And we can help take care of the sick people!" Hinata volunteered eagerly, Yachi nodding her head with vigor. "Right, Kageyama?"

All eyes turned to Kageyama, who was looking extremely pale. In a split second, Tanaka was hit with the sense that it would be a very good idea to back up quickly; extending his arm, he managed to sweep Kiyoko, Yachi, and Hinata all out of the range of Kageyama in one swift motion. A second later the boy was lurking forward with a gag, a stream of vomit drenching not just the floor but the front of his clothing as well.

"Well," Tanaka said, his voice flat. "I guess _he_ really didn't want to help."

...

"Daichi-san, Kageyama just puked _everywhere_ , you should have seen it --"

Would starting to cry be setting a poor example for his team? At this point, Daichi honestly wasn't sure.

...

Daichi didn't even know how things eventually managed to work out. Somehow it had, and it really was nothing short of a miracle -- Tsukishima's mother had shown up first to take both Tsukishima and Yamaguchi home with her. Nishinoya's mother wasn't far behind (Daichi had managed to wrangle Nishinoya into submission by that time); Ennoshita's parents showed up, Tanaka's sister made her way there, Hinata's mother volunteered to drive Kageyama home as well... overall, things had worked out well. Ukai had ended up having to drive one person home -- poor Kinoshita, who had no ride and was too sick to walk. Daichi didn't know how that had ended, but the off-color look on the boy's face as he slipped into the passenger side of Ukai's truck suggested it hadn't gone well.

Kiyoko had been one of the last to leave, walking home on her own. After that, there were two people remaining: Daichi and Suga.

Daichi stood with his arms crossed, glowering down at his friend. "Suga. Really."

"I'm not -- _ulp_ \-- sick, Daichi."

Suga was looking up at him earnestly, dark eyes wide in his pale face. He was wearing that expression, the one that made adults melt like overheated chocolate and girls giggle behind their hands -- the one he used to wrap people around his finger. A lot of people thought Suga was "too nice" to be manipulative; Daichi knew better. He also knew how not to fall for that innocent look -- he'd learned from experience.

"Suga, you look like you're literally seconds away from throwing up."

"But I'm not." Suga's stomach burbled loudly, in vehement disagreement. He at least had the decency to look slightly shame-faced as Daichi raised an eyebrow.

"You can't walk home like this," the brunet pointed out reasonably. Suga had tried; he'd only proven Daichi's point when he'd wound up having to sit down on the side of the road, the pains and upheaval in his stomach making it impossible for him to walk. Now, as Daichi lowered himself down on the curb next to Suga, he ran his hand gently over his friend's shoulder and watched as he fought off a gag.

"I'm... fine," Suga choked out, and Daichi had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from cursing aloud. "I don't need to throw up. I'm not sick."

"Suga."

Suga belched openly, unable to help it; he pressed a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought back nausea. "I'm not. I don't... I _really_ don't like throwing up, so I'm not going to, I _can't_ Daichi, I -- _ulp."_

He let out a soft groan, burying his face in his hands, and Daichi felt his chest constrict. Maybe he was immune to his innocent face, but he certainly wasn't immune to Suga (no one was). Seeing him suffer was twisting Daichi's heart in a variety of unpleasant ways, and all he really wanted to do in the moment was wrap him up and tell him it would be okay. If he could take the sickness away from him, he would -- even if it meant taking it on himself.

But Daichi couldn't do that, no more than Suga could stop the inevitable. "I hate to break it to you, Suga," he said quietly, "but I really think you're going to be sick."

"I can't," Suga said again, voice sounding very small. He did not take his hands away from his mouth.

Daichi laid both hands on the other boy's shoulders; Suga felt bony under his touch, almost frail. He was openly trembling with nausea now, a side effect of having suppressed it for so long. "It's okay. I'm right here."

"I haven't thrown up in the longest time, Daichi, I'm not sure I c--" Suga's shaky half-pleading suddenly broke off in a harsh gag, and Daichi braced himself as he held Suga by the shoulders. The other boy doubled to the side, groaning and heaving, but still his body refused to cough anything up. "I can't," he gasped again, between gags, and there was something desperate in his voice. "I just -- I --"

It was dawning on Daichi, what he would have to do; he wasn't happy about it. Somehow it felt like an invasion of privacy, like he was violating Suga in a way. He couldn't even stand the thought. But Suga's own body was violating _him_ , forcing him to do something he absolutely did not want to do, but clearly had no choice in. All Daichi could do was help in any way that he could.

Gently he released his hold on the trembling boy's shoulders; instead, his hands found a tentative place along Suga's midsection, hovering lightly over his stomach. Suga could have pushed him away; Daichi almost wanted him to. He didn't.

Uncertainly, Daichi pushed down on Suga's stomach. The boy gave a sharp gag. Slightly encouraged, Daichi pressed harder, and finally -- _finally_ Suga managed to bring up a stream of vomit.

After that he didn't need Daichi's help anymore. The physical and mental barrier had been broken down; Suga could no longer keep his body from doing what it had to. Daichi wasn't sure how long they sat there on the side of the road, him holding Suga as he vomited into the grass. He couldn't even bring himself to be disgusted; all he felt was pity, and fatigue. He was tired; it had been a long day.

At least it was shaping up to be a nice night, he thought as he cast his gaze up towards the sky. With the sun sinking lower and the sky darkening, the stars were beginning to gleam brightly. It was the sort of night he knew Suga liked.

Eventually, Suga's gagging died off. Daichi heaved a sigh as he felt the boy slump in his arms, utterly exhausted.

 _Worse-case scenario,_ he reminded himself firmly. Somehow, in some way, this day could have been a lot worse.

...

By Monday, all of Karasuno had recovered and reported for morning practice bright eyed and eager. Only a single person turned up missing from their integral line-up.

At home, bed-ridden and cursing whichever virus first mutated to create stomach bugs, Daichi couldn't even bring himself to feel glad that his own worse-case scenario could have been a lot worse.


End file.
